


The First Kiss Tasted Bitter

by NovemberBlue (Cherrypie62666)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: AU, Boys Kissing, Drinking, Fluff, I shouldn't have to put that given the summary but just in case, Implied Sexual Content, Kisses, M/M, Mutual Pining, Smoking, Sort of angst but not really?, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Time Skips, Why Did I Write This?, klance, klangst, real world AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2019-01-17 04:33:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12357558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cherrypie62666/pseuds/NovemberBlue
Summary: A strange scent swirled in on the breeze, creeping down his airways and making his nose crinkle in disgust.  “Stinks,” he muttered, covering his nostrils with a cupped hand to shield them from further distress.Sitting upright, his eyes swept the area slowly, landing on a dark-haired mass leaning back against the trunk of a birch, right arm resting on a single bent knee, curls of grey smoke billowing around him as he gazed off into the distance.  The red tie hanging loosely around the crisp white fabric of his long sleeve button up signaled his affiliation to the school, which meant only one thing to Lance as he slipped from his hiding place and approached his fellow student.“You shouldn’t smoke so close to the buildings, you know, it isn’t allowed on campus.  You’re practically asking to get suspended.”Violet eyes flicked his way, brow cocking incredulously as the boy took another long pull from his cigarette.  Letting it out in a rush of air through his nose, he cracked a smile.  “And cutting class is,” he asked, flicking the butt nonchalantly with his thumbnail.





	1. The start of something bigger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got this idea from a fan art that I saw on Pinterest, different fandom. I was inspired...
> 
> So, this fic is more likely than not only going to be four chapters long. Don't quote me on that, I am terrible at guessing.  
> It will skip through time, with not a lot of backstory on the current situations other than what is deemed relevant by myself.  
> I was going to post this thing as a one-shot and then decided to break it up into sections based on time because I suck at making things one long single chapter. Oops.

Senior year of High School

It was the beginning of October, a Wednesday to be exact, on a day so crisp and warm it would be a shame to spend it cooped up inside a classroom.  The trees had already begun their autumnal transitions; reds, golds, oranges, and yellows mixing with the speckling of leftover green as the wind swayed their branches in a dance of vibrant leaves.

Lance McClain laid on his back atop the decrepit building, hands clasped loosely behind his head, watching as the fluffy white clouds slowly trickled by.  Blue eyes sought patterns in a lazy fashion; though, for the most part, it was just a quiet way to pass the time as he waited for his friends to finish lessons for the day, meeting up afterward at their usual spot just outside the boarding school’s grounds.

“Pretty sure that’s a turtle.  Could be a raccoon, I guess.”

A strange scent swirled in on the breeze, creeping down his airways and making his nose crinkle in disgust.  “Stinks,” he muttered, covering his nostrils with a cupped hand to shield them from further distress.

Sitting upright, his eyes swept the area slowly, landing on a dark-haired mass leaning back against the trunk of a birch, right arm resting on a single bent knee, curls of grey smoke billowing around him as he gazed off into the distance.  The red tie hanging loosely around the crisp white fabric of his long sleeve button up signaled his affiliation to the school, which meant only one thing to Lance as he slipped from his hiding place and approached his fellow student.

“You shouldn’t smoke so close to the buildings, you know, it isn’t allowed on campus.  You’re practically asking to get suspended.”

Violet eyes flicked his way, brow cocking incredulously as the boy took another long pull from his cigarette.  Letting it out in a rush of air through his nose, he cracked a smile.  “And cutting class is,” he asked, flicking the butt nonchalantly with his thumbnail. 

Ash dropped to the ground near Lance’s shoe, an unhappy crease furrowing his brow.  “No, but it’s less of an offense and far less harmful to others.  Aren’t you underage, anyway?  Why are you smoking?”

“A passing whim,” he murmured, running his free hand through shaggy black locks, barely disrupting their unruly flow.  “It’s none of your business anyhow, so kindly move along.”

Crossing arms over his chest, Lance huffed indignantly.  “I’m more than certain I was here first, so if anyone should move along, it’s you.  You’re ruining the pleasant afternoon with your cancer sticks and sour disposition.”

Another smile curled his full lips, cigarette hanging precariously between sparkling teeth.  “You’re one to talk.  I was here enjoying myself quietly when you showed up squawking about rules.”  The tip glowed cherry red as he inhaled, piercing eyes unblinking as they watched him curiously through a curtain of thick lashes.  “Pretty sure the disruptive one is the one who gets kicked out first.”

“Since when is friendly advice disruptive,” Lance pouted.  “And I wasn’t squawking, I was speaking regularly.”

“What’s your name,” he asked, tilting his head to the side and stubbing out his half-finished cigarette into the grass.

Lance narrowed his eyes skeptically in response, unsure whether or not to answer truthfully.  “Lance,” he finally mumbled, pursing his lips unhappily.  “Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” he replied with a shrug, rising to his feet and stretching long arms high above his head.  “Just a little curious.”  Gathering up his messenger bag he slung it over his shoulder, pulling a new cigarette from his pack and placing it between his lips.  “Well, see you.”

“Aren’t you going to tell me yours,” Lance called out, taking a step closer as the boy turned to leave.

Turning back, he popped a match with a quick snap of his fingers, holding it beneath the paper and taking a lazy pull.  “Why should I,” he breathed, a swirl of grey obscuring his face.

Waving the fumes away with a fake cough, Lance cocked a brow.  “Uh, isn’t that how it’s supposed to work?”

“Is it?”

“Usually.”

Taking a step closer, a teasing smile spread across his mouth.  “Well then,” he murmured, taking another drag and blowing it directly into Lance’s face.  Tears immediately sprang to his eyes, lungs choked with a burn he’d never experienced. 

 _Bastard,_ he thought angrily, blinking rapidly to absolve himself of the horrible sting.  Before he had time to react, a hand curled itself around his tie, pulling him forward as soft, warm lips pressed firmly against his own. 

In an instant, it was over, the strange boy releasing his hold and stepping away.  Surprise and confusion had him rooted to the spot, eyes blown wide as a delicate blush painted his cheeks.  The boy rifled through his bag for a moment then tossed Lance the pack of smokes with a chuckle, offering a half-hearted wave farewell before turning and sauntering away.

Ghosting fingers over his mouth, he watched as the other became a small speck in the distance, finally disappearing amongst the trees; allthewhile the only thought in his head was about the suddenness of the kiss and how strangely it tasted.

“Bitter,” he decided, bending down to scoop up the half-empty pack laying in the grass.  “And what in the world am I expected to do with this?  I’m not interested in cigarettes.”

Tucking it safely into his trouser pocket with a sigh, he turned around and headed back toward class.

* * *

 

Lance sat at his desk in contemplative silence, eyes occasionally flicking to the partially crushed pack of smokes stashed underneath his binder.  It didn’t take much for him to discover the other’s name; a quick glance inside found the exact same word written on the end of every last cigarette he pulled out.  Keith.  Cross-referencing the name with the school’s student database, he found only one Keith listed out of the five thousand or so students attending.  Keith Kogane.

A quick mention of the name to his two best friends and he had confirmed the two were one in the same.  What’s more, Pidge had rolled her eyes at his denseness, patting him condescendingly on the arm as she told him exactly who this Keith fellow was.

_“You know, top of your year?  Dark and broody and always by himself?  Come on, Lance, the guy is only in over half of your classes.  When he bothers to show up to them.”_

_Hunk nodded vigorously across from them as he took a large bite of his hotdog, relish and mustard oozing out the sides of the bun.  “Yeah, dude, even I’ve noticed him around.  He’s like super smart, or whatever, and that’s coming from the two of us.”  Scooping up a glob of chunky yellow goo, he popped it and the rest of the thing into his mouth, chewing thoroughly before speaking again.  “I mean, I guess I see how you don’t know him.  Pretty sure he transferred partway through last semester.”_

_Pidge pointed a naked fry at him accusingly.  “What business do you have with Kogane, anyhow?  It’s not like you to take an interest in anyone, especially not someone in the running for your valedictorian spot.”_

_“Please, as if a troublemaker like him could ever take that away from someone like me.”  Hunk and Pidge both shot him equally incredulous looks.  “I mean more of a troublemaker.  Skipping a class now and then isn’t the same as being antisocial and a total jackass.”_

_“You speak like you’ve met him,” Pidge stated with an air of nonchalance, swirling her ‘weapon’ in a mixture of mayo, ketchup, and malt vinegar while Lance fought down the urge to gag outright.  The gleam in her brown eyes as she glanced his way was far more perceptive and dangerous than her tone let on.  “I thought you saw his name somewhere and were only curious.”_

_“Well, you two paint such a lifelike portrait of the guy, I feel like I might recall seeing him in passing once or twice.”  The lie left his lips easily, fingers curling as he propped them up beneath his chin.  “Anyway, enough about that.  How pissed was Iverson when I didn’t show up for sixth?”_

_Hunk ran a hand through his hair as he reluctantly recounted the five shades of red their astrophysics teacher turned during his rant about punctuality and how important class time was for the lot of them.  Lance listened intently, a small smile playing on his lips, careful to avoid eye contact with the ever-watchful girl and her suspicious looks._

It was already late, past curfew and no time to be thinking of leaving the dormitory; even if his loudly snoring friend was far too dead to the world to try and reason him out of it.  Strumming his fingers along the hard pine surface of his desk, he leaned back in his chair, attempting to return his focus to homework.  Curiosity got the better of him and he shot up from his seat, grabbing a jacket and slipping on his favorite shoes before stuffing the offensive object into his pocket and throwing open the drapes. 

The grass outside the window was cool and damp as his fingers brushed against it while he crouched, eyes scanning the area for signs of life.  Wind whispered across the empty grounds, the soft patter of fallen leaves crinkling in the otherwise quiet night.  Rising to his full height, he slunk through the darkness toward the lining of trees, careful to avoid the bright lamplight casting ominous shadows about the place.

Breaking through the first row of trees, his heart already hammered wildly in his chest.  The building in the distance grew harder and harder to see clearly the further he trekked through the steadily thickening wood, but that didn’t stop him from pressing onward, too nervous that someone might notice him to stop and relax.

Moonlight shone through the breaks in the canopy high above, illuminating the path forward in speckles of light like a disco ball painting the ground.  By the time he deemed himself nice and hidden, a light sheen of sweat began to form itself along his hairline, part from his stuttering pulse and part from maneuvering through the dense grove of trees.

The hard, white wood made a good place to rest his back, soft crunch of dry earth beneath his unlaced boots strangely comforting as he settled in.  Pulling a single cigarette from the pack, he traced a fingertip over the letters scratched across the end, admiring the harsh lines and gentle curves as they spelled out that name he barely knew.

Placing the butt between his lips, he struck a match from the little red book conveniently located in the cellophane wrap, watching the flicker of bright orange until it stung his retinas.  “I guess I just inhale,” he murmured, kissing fire to paper and breathing a hard pull.

Horrible agony shot its way down his esophagus, filling his lungs with a terrible sensation.  Yanking the thing from his mouth, he spluttered and coughed curls of swirling grey, head swimming as his eyes prickled with tears.  “Bitter,” he managed to wheeze, clutching a hand up to his still aching throat and leaning back against the tree for support.

The soft red glow of embers steadily wasted away into ash, a thin line of fire still occasionally zipping along the paper as the cigarette continued to burn down without his aid.  Already the acrid scent clung to the air all around him, seeping into the fabric of his clothes and dancing fingers through his messy hair. 

The taste, scent, sight of the smoke drew his mind back nostalgically, unwanted imagery flashing behind open eyes.  Violet pools, the press of warm lips, the sultry sound of melodic laughter, the bitter flavor once again invading his airways and coating his tongue.

 _Why am I even thinking about that again_ , he wondered, staring at the white stick still clutched between the pointer and middle fingers of his right hand.  Drawing it back to his lips, he inhaled a little slower, feeling the wash of lightheadedness from nicotine shooting through his body as smoke filled his lungs a tad less harshly than the first time around.

Breathing it back out like a sigh, it thinned as it climbed higher through the inky blackness, disappearing into the starry night.  Flicking the butt messily with his thumb, he relaxed against the cool bark, succumbed to the thought that perhaps he truly was attempting to recreate that very first high.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I have the next part written already, so here is to hoping I can continue updates in a timely manner!  
> P.S. I have no set chapter length, so just because this one was super short (yup, for me, 2,000 words is half a chapter, possibly less) doesn't mean I won't bombard you with a 6,000-word chapter later. :D
> 
>  
> 
> Hit me up on Tumblr - Cherrypie62666


	2. A fleeting moment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter one? 2,000 words.  
> Chapter two? 5,000. Makes sense. :3

Second year of college

Lance ducked underneath the awning to avoid the sudden downpour, pulling a cigarette from his pack and tapping the butt lightly against his palm before placing it between his lips.  Ocean blue eyes scanned the street for the familiar looming mass of his friend’s form, finding only a few remaining stragglers hurrying somewhere beneath hardbound books and umbrellas, and scenery completely awash in grey and black. 

Lighting the thing, he took a long, slow pull.

The sound of rain hitting the sidewalk drowned out the honking of cars in the distance, a thunderous roar that sank itself deep into his bones.  Leaning back against the cool surface of glass behind him, he watched as the fat droplets bounce against silver cement, little pinpricks of wetness flying off to kiss the toes of his scuffed up black boots.

“Why did it have to rain on a Tuesday,” he sighed, words floating from his lips in a swirl of foggy grey that matched the remainder of his bleak surroundings.

The gentle glow of red from the tip of his stoge as he absentmindedly inhaled seemed to be the only color fighting back against the otherwise muted landscape, the only bit of change he received in a monotonous and dull world.  Even as he breathed out puffs of vapor into the chilly winter air, shrugging deeper into his jacket to offset the bite of cold that nipped at his fingers and nose, the only thing he really noticed was the bitter tang coating his tongue and the comfort of color dancing orange across his knuckles.

He had been smoking the exact same brand of cigarettes for a little over two years now, the same scent and flavor the only thing tangible that was left of a fleeting memory he could barely recall.  Not that he chased that feeling, mind you.  It was more of a reminder that sometimes life-changing things arrive in the tiniest of packages.

That was probably putting too much sentimentality into it, but he really did believe a few passing moments between strangers might have been one of the turning points in his life; like discovering masturbation for the first time or eating your very first cheeseburger.  It had opened him up to new ideas, things that had never existed inside of him until that very instant.

Lance hadn’t reencountered the strange boy one time since that fateful afternoon, and even if he wanted to go out of his way to look for him, which he certainly didn’t, it wasn’t realistically possible.  Keith Kogane had vanished like the smoke dancing off of his cigarette, spreading so thinly in the velvet sky that it eventually left no trace. 

He didn’t ask, and no one gossiped the reasons behind it, so the mystery of his disappearance remained forever unsolved.  Locked up in a tiny place somewhere in the back of his mind, he kept that feeling as a memento and moved on, determined to never again let it slip its way back out and haunt him.

The rain poured harder as he lost himself in flimsy daydreams, streams of rooftop runoff forcing him further underneath the little awning that did very little to keep him safely dry.  Hunk was still no doubt on route to meet with him for dinner and had his phone not died in the middle of class, he might call the big guy up and ask if there was a drier place they could meet than the front of the science building he’d only recently vacated.

A door opened somewhere to his right, the figure of a person joining him quietly amidst the roaring downpour as he watched the street with ever-growing impatience.  His cigarette no more than a sliver of white against the orange filter, he flicked it into a puddle, smirking when the glowing embers on the end fizzled instantly and turned black. 

His shoes were now wet, a subtle dampness already working its way through the leather to press against his socks.  Hissing a breath out through his teeth, he gave up on waiting out in the cold in exchange for artificially warm air and the soft feeling of vinyl chairs that awaited him in the lobby and turned to leave.

Sweet nostalgia flooded his brain in a dizzying wave, oxygen stuttering inside of his all too constricted lungs. 

Pale skin, dark shaggy hair, and long eyelashes; the boy stared out into the rain-covered street, hands stuffed into the pockets of his black leather jacket, dark eyes transfixed somewhere on the ground.  His cheeks were slightly hollowed; a long, white stick of some sort poking from his pursed, pouty lips.  The fact that it wasn’t smoking was perhaps the only difference between this version and the one he’d met two years ago, but Lance was certain the two were one in the same.

Swallowing down the bitter taste coating his tongue, he took a deep breath, releasing it in a puff of steam.  “Keith,” he called hesitantly, barely audible over the sound of water pelting the cement.

Violet eyes flicked his way, recognition lighting a small flame inside of them as a gentle smile brightened his face.  Pulling a small cherry red sucker from his mouth, he pointed at him with it.  “Rule guy.  Lance, right?”

Lance felt a jolt of satisfaction at being remembered, running a hand through his misty hair shyly.  “Yeah.  Long time, huh?  What are you doing here?”

Keith gave him a look that was equal parts incredulous and amused.  “I go to school here?  I didn’t think you’d be that slow on the uptake.”

“Oh, right,” he mumbled, feeling a gentle warmth already beginning to flood his cheeks.  Noticing suddenly the lack of reason to be standing outside in the midst of a storm, he allowed curiosity to get the better of him.  “So, enjoy the rain or?”

Glancing back out at the wet landscape, Keith lifted one shoulder up in a shrug.  “Habit, from when I used to smoke.”

“Used to,” Lance echoed, brow creasing slightly.

Keith smiled wryly, waving his sucker through the chilly air.  “Trying to quit, swapping one oral fixation for another.”

“Sugar,” he asked incredulously.

 A throaty laugh floated its way past the other’s red-stained lips.  “There are worse things to orally fixate on,” he teased, staring pointedly at Lance’s crotch for a moment before his violet gaze wandered up, filled with mirth.  “I don’t really like gum, never know what to do with it once it loses its flavor.  Do you swallow or spit?”

Lance chose to pointedly ignore what he figured was an innuendo, turning instead to the other question niggling his brain.  “What’s the habit, exactly?”

“Being outside,” Keith replied, gesturing to the rain.  “The two kind of go together, you know?  I never much liked being cooped up indoors, so it was only fitting to develop an addiction that kept me in nature.”

“Couldn’t think of a healthier alternative,” Lance asked with a chuckle.

Keith rolled his eyes.  “Like you can really say much.  You know, it’s wrong to litter.”

Blinking owlishly, it took a moment for his brain to register the statement.  “Oh.  Yes, I suppose it is.” Worrying a lip between his teeth, he ran out into the downpour and grabbed the discarded butt, stepping back beneath the awning and shaking the droplets from his hair.

“I didn’t actually think you’d do it,” Keith murmured, another soft smile curling his lips.  Popping the sucker into his mouth, he swirled it around, looking pensive.

Lance flushed, dropping the sopping thing into a nearby garbage can.  “I don’t normally do that, anyway.  Littering.  It was just raining, so I figured there’s no need to worry about starting a fire.”

“When did you pick it up?  Clearly after high school, seeing as how you accosted me for underage smoking.”

“Er,” he mumbled weakly, flicking his gaze around.  “A little after I turned eighteen, I guess.”  It wasn’t completely a lie.  Lance’s birthday just happened to be in late July, and he’d started school a year behind other kids his age, so he was already eighteen at the time. 

Keith hummed in contemplation.  “I see.  What changed your mind?”

Waving a flippant hand, Lance dodged the question to the best of his capabilities.  “I was never against it, you just got the wrong impression.”

“Do tell, I was nearly certain the words ‘cancer sticks’ meant they were perceived negatively.”  The look on his face spoke of barely contained laughter, no doubt finding amusement in watching Lance dangle like a worm on a hook.

“Alright, I might have been a little hostile at the time, but you were no picnic yourself.”

Keith chuckled, low and smooth.  “I suppose you’re right.  I’ve never been good with authority or rules.  Individuals that are tend to end up on my bad side.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m exactly good with following rules,” Lance defended himself meekly.

Cocking a brow, the other tilted his head with a teasing smile.  “Is that so, Mr. Valedictorian?”

Lance made to answer, lips parting and jaw relaxing as he sucked in a breath.  Before anything could work its way out, a familiar voice shouted to him through the rain. 

“Laaaaaaance!”

Turning his head, he caught sight of Hunk waving from the open window of his yellow Jeep Wrangler, parked in the tow away zone fifteen or so feet away.

“Friend of yours, I assume,” Keith murmured, placing the sucker between his red lips.

Lance didn’t quite know if he wanted to kiss or kill his friend for his ever-impeccable timing, smiling in response despite the strange feeling bubbling in his chest.  “Yeah, gotta run,” he said apologetically, stuffing hands into his coat pockets.

Keith offered up a small wave farewell, violet eyes heavily lidded as he removed the candy from his mouth with a soft pop.  “See you around, maybe.”

“Yeah.”

Turning on his heel, the dark boy stepped out into the pouring rain, seemingly impassive to the thick drops of water that slowly pelted him from all sides as he sauntered off in the opposite direction.

A surge of disappointment shot through him as he watched the other go, wondering whether or not he should call out better parting words on the offhand chance they, too, might be their last.  He had done it before, tempted fate and quite possibly changed his life with the stubbornness he had yet to do away with.  Perhaps it was the nostalgia burning through his veins, but a part of him wondered if the next time would taste sweeter.

In the end, he opted to leave it be, heading for Hunk’s car in a quick burst to avoid getting soaked.

“Took you long enough,” Hunk sighed as he threw himself into the passenger seat, shivering slightly from the wet and cold.  “Who was that guy you were talking with?  A friend from class?”

“Not really, no,” Lance replied vaguely, glancing out the window in a vain attempt to catch sight of Keith still walking through the grounds.  All he saw was empty grey concrete and far too much rain.

“Oh, okay,” Hunk said slowly as he switched it into first and pulled away from the curb.  Warmth blasted from the little vents, dancing nicely across his chilled skin.  “Sorry for taking so long, by the way, I texted you my class was running late and I was going to swing by the house to grab my car but it said you never received it.  Phone die again?  You should really remember your charger, dude, save yourself having to wait in the cold.”

Lance made a noncommittal noise in his throat, watching the little drops of water running down the glass as the scenery blurred by.  Fiddling with the pack in his jacket pocket, he pulled it out, the urge to light one suddenly suffocating.  “Hey, I know it’s raining and all, but do you mind if I smoke?”  Placing a cigarette between his lips, he glanced at his best friend.

Hunk smiled in exasperation.  “Bad day, buddy?”

“Nah, nothing like that.  Just kind of feeling like it.  Rainy days, and what have you.”

Pressing the window button on his side paneling, Hunk graciously acquiesced.  “Second-hand smoke kills, you know,” he stated wryly, not for the first time in two years.

Pulling out his red zippo, Lance kissed flame to paper, closing his eyes as a wash of bitter tobacco coated his tongue.  Releasing the drag in a breathy sigh, he leaned back comfortably in his seat, resting his right elbow on the door’s side paneling.  “Hunk, my man, what in life doesn’t?”

“Touché.”

* * *

 

“What’s the matter, dude?  You’ve hardly touched your pie.”

Lance glanced over into big, concerned brown eyes, feeling a flash of guilt ripple through him as he pulled his lips up into what he hoped was a convincing smile.  It was two weeks since the afternoon in the rain, and thus far, he had yet to run into Keith no matter how often he stayed after classes or roamed the surrounding campus for signs of the dark-haired boy.

“I’m not really feeling pie today,” he admitted, only halfway lying to his worried friend’s face.  In truth, he wasn’t feeling anything except churning anxiety, but saying that aloud was grounds for conversations he wasn’t quite sure he was ready to commit to.

Hunk looked at him as if he were crazy.  “Okay, now I know something is up.  Pie is literally the best thing in existence, to the point where you cannot help but want it all of the time.  So spill.”

Lifting his arm in a shrug, he let it fall back to his side.  “I’m really just not feeling it today, buddy.  That’s all there is to it.  Besides, you are the one who loves pie that much.”

“But it’s pie Tuesday,” Hunk cried, waving his arms about wildly.  “You know?  The same thing we’ve been doing every Tuesday afternoon since, I don’t know, we moved to this town and found out the best place to go and sit and recreate our old hangout spot from High School?”

“So, you mean two years,” he supplied helpfully, curling a hand beneath his chin and smirking at his best friend.  “And my point exactly, dude.  That is quite a bit of pie.”

Raking a hand down his face, Hunk heaved a sigh.  “Let’s just pretend I believe you for a second here, which I don’t, but we can say I do.”  Narrowing his eyes conspiratorially, he leaned across the table.  “Why bother even ordering it in the first place if you aren’t going to eat it?”

Lance cocked a brow.  “Force of habit, wasn’t thinking about what I wanted.”

“Ah Hah!”  Hunk pointed his figure at him in accusation.  “So, you admit there is something on your mind and you couldn’t think about anything else.  Spill.”

Rolling his eyes, he shook his head sadly.  “You’ve really gotta stop binge-watching all of those conspiracy theories and criminal case shows, dude.  I think they’re warping your sense of reality.”

“Jokes aside, Lance, you’ve been weird for a little while now.  Is there something on your mind?  I haven’t seen this big a change in your usual character since…” stroking his chin, Hunk hummed pensively.  With a quick snap of his fingers, he grinned.  “I know, senior year.  Oh my god, dude, did you meet someone?”

“What,” Lance squawked indignantly, eyes wide.  “Why was that your automatic go to?”

Looking a little sheepish, Hunk rubbed the back of his neck.  “Well, Pidge and I had this theory going after you started acting all strange.  You know, the late night sneaking out, the coming back to the dorm always smelling odd.  Plus, you totally acted like a teenager in mourning, no offense dude.”

“None taken,” Lance said with a flippant wave.

“Anyway, we thought it must be someone you were seeing that you didn’t want us to know about because you were ashamed or whatever.  When nothing ever came of it, we wrote it off as second puberty and closed that chapter.  But, hindsight, there was totally a crush, right?”

Lance shifted uncomfortably in his seat.  “You know it was just the whole smoking thing.  Not wanting to get caught and also not knowing how anyone would react if they knew.”

Hunk didn’t look convinced.  “You know, I never really bought your ‘I just found them and tried it and that’s that’ story.  Something about the whole thing is really fishy.”

“Think what you want, buddy,” Lance began with a sigh, sliding his plate across the table and slipping from the booth.  Stuffing hands into his hoodie pockets, he fiddled with the cardboard packaging.  “That doesn’t change the fact that it’s the truth.  In both cases.”

“You sure you don’t want the pie,” Hunk asked, already lifting his fork to dig in.

A smile curled his lips.  “You can have it if you want.  I think I’m gonna step out for a smoke.”

Hunk gave him another strange look but didn’t question it, so Lance didn’t stick around to ask.  Stepping out into the cold December afternoon, he stared up at the frozen sky, wishing for even just a single white cloud to float past.

“Anything to break the monotony,” he mumbled, placing an unlit cigarette between his lips.

Winter had come earlier than usual in a flurry of harsh winds and icy rains, kissing the scenery with its frigid breath.  The trees were already relieved of most of their leaves, twisted limbs reaching for the heavens in a vain attempt to chase the dying rays of sunlight, brown merging with the endless blue.  Even the tops of buildings somehow looked colder in the pale light, dustings of spiderwebbed frost clinging to the cracks still covered in shade.  It would be beautiful if it didn’t also remind him of death. 

In the truest of ways, that’s all Winter was.  A turning of the wheel, the end before the rebirth, a natural stage for all life’s wonders.  It was cold and brittle, sinking deep into your body and leaching the warmth from it, sucking the very life from your skin.  Perhaps that’s why he abhorred it so greatly.  It reminded him far too much of himself.

With a gentle sigh, he lit up, chasing that bitter familiarity as if he, too, could absorb the warmth of the distant past.  As the grey smoke curled through the slowly pinkening sky, streams of gold and orange painting the frozen world in a last desperate attempt to free it from its glacial tomb, he remembered once more the streak of violet forever imprinted in his memories.

* * *

 

Lance finally found him on a Friday around noon, leaning back against a large oak, flitting through the pages of a book.  His mop of hair was covered with a loose beanie to fight the cold, bangs hanging down to obscure his violet eyes, pale skin glowing even brighter against the chilly backdrop of barren earth and fallen leaves.

The only splash of color amidst the sea of black that covered him from head to toe was a thickly knitted red scarf coiled around his shoulders and throat, like a drop of blood in a well of ink, and the kiss of gentle pink along his nose and cheeks.

He approached him cautiously at first, unsure of what to say.  By the time his feet stopped just shy of being inside personal space, he’d decided on simplicity.  “You really must like being outside if you’re willing to sit on the frozen ground in the middle of December.”

Glancing up with an amused expression on his face, he cocked his head to the side.  “This feels oddly familiar.  Got a smoke?”

“Thought you quit,” Lance replied with a quirked brow.

Keith smiled so softly it made his stomach flip.  “Humor me.  I’ll quit again some other day.”

Pulling the pack from his hoodie pocket, he offered it over reluctantly.  “Don’t blame me if you pick back up the habit.”

“Never,” Keith murmured, placing one between his full lips.  “Got a light?”

Swallowing nervously, Lance tossed his zippo gently onto Keith’s lap, watching as the boy rolled it quickly up and down his jeans in one fluid motion.  The flame danced and swayed as he brought it up to the paper, orange and yellow reflecting softly against his pupils as he took a slow pull.

Breathing the smoke out through his nostrils, he smirked.  “You could sit if you’d like.  Or, you know, continue standing there awkward and unsure of yourself.”

Lance found a relatively flat area and took a seat, careful to avoid the brush of knees as he crossed his legs and accepted back the offered cigarettes.  Glancing at the book cast aside in the dry grass, he inclined his head.  “What are you reading?”

“Nothing important,” Keith replied, stretching his shoulders backward until there was a low pop.  Shifting slightly, he sat back against the trunk of the tree.  “So, free period or?”

Smiling faintly, Lance shook his head.  “I just got done with the only class I have today.  What about you?”

Taking a long drag, he lifted one arm up in a shrug.  “Just like the quiet campus, I guess.  No one comes here in the colder months.  Good place to sit.”

“That would be because it’s cold and you’re insane,” Lance teased with a grin.  “Anyone in their right mind uses the library as a quiet place to sit in the winter.”

Keith hummed in amusement.  “The library is nice, but nothing beats the quiet of a cold winter morning,” he murmured, flicking the butt with his thumbnail.  Placing the cigarette between his lips, it dangled loosely as he stared out into the distance.  “Don’t get me wrong, I prefer the warmer months.  There’s just decidedly fewer places to go if you want to be alone.”

“Do you live close by,” Lance asked curiously, watching the cherry of Keith’s cigarette glow red hot before it settled back into a bleak grey.

“Yeah, my brother and I have an apartment not far from here.  Most of the time he’s too busy with work to be home so I hang out on the balcony instead.”

“And when he’s not?”

Keith glanced at him sidelong, a slight smile curving his lips.  Plucking the smoke from his mouth, he held it out in an offering.  “Here.  If you keep staring like that, I’m going to get the wrong idea.”

Lance felt the blush painted across his cheeks as he accepted, taking a quick pull and dropping his gaze down to the scraggly grass poking through the hard, brown earth at his feet.  Smoke curled in tendrils of grey as he exhaled out like a sigh, blanketing his legs in a curtain of fog.

“You’re not what I expected,” Keith murmured, drawing his gaze back to pools of indigo.

“What?”

Cracking a smile, he shook his head.  “I guess I just expected someone uptight, you know?  You always seemed straight-laced or whatever.  Too absorbed in following the rules to let your hair down.”

Lance chuckled softly as he handed the cigarette back.  “I’m pretty sure my friends would get a kick out of that one.  It always astounded them how I was able to be class valedictorian while simultaneously breaking all of the rules on a weekly basis.  I’m just good at not getting caught.”

“Perception is a funny thing,” Keith responded with a wry smile.

“How did you know, by the way, about the valedictorian thing.  You left so early in the year.”

Quirking a brow, he hummed quietly.  “They send yearbooks to everyone, even if you don’t finish the year.  Hard to forget that cheesy photo on the first page dedicated to all their top students.”

Fighting down another blush, Lance fiddled with his shoe.  “Why’d you leave, if you don’t mind my asking.”

“Family issues,” Keith replied vaguely, stubbing out the cigarette into the hard ground.  Rising to his feet, he dusted off his pants before offering down a hand.  Lance took it without much hesitation, allowing the other to pull him up.  “I’ve gotta get to work soon, I should probably head back home and change.”

“Oh, okay,” he mumbled.

Glancing at their still clasped hands, Keith smirked up at him.  “You can walk with if you’re insistent on holding my hand longer.”

Lance pulled away like he’d been shocked, missing the other’s warmth almost instantly.  “What?  Oh, uh.  Sorry.”

“I’m teasing you, relax,” Keith murmured.  Stepping closer with heavily lidded eyes, a slow smile spread across his face, voice dropping to a soft purr.  “Unless, of course, you’re interested?”

Fire burned his cheeks, skin turning the color of a tomato.  “Er,” he said, drawing out the ‘r’ so long it probably sounded like he’d malfunctioned.

Keith patted him reassuringly on the chest.  “Maybe some other time, then.”  Turning, he gathered up his belongings into a messenger bag and threw it over his shoulder.  “I’ll see you around again, perhaps.”

“Where do you work,” Lance asked before his brain thought better of it.

“102 Baker Street,” Keith called out with a wave, not even bothering to turn around.  “I get off at nine, so don’t be late.”

* * *

 

The bell above the door jingled as he stepped inside the little used bookshop, eyes scanning the area for signs of Keith.  The woman behind the counter smiled at him brightly as he stood awkwardly in the doorway, long silvery white hair pulled into a thick braid that rested over her right shoulder, in complete contrast to her deeply tanned skin.

“Welcome to Altea books, is there anything I can help you look for today,” she asked in crisp, accented speech; British from the sound of it.

Chewing the skin of his lip, he shook his head.  “No, just… just browsing,” he mumbled, walking over to one of the few shelves in the center of the room and skimming through the contents.

No one else appeared to be inside the shop, a room so small and stuffed with books of all kinds that it looked more like a professor’s study than a place to purchase things.  Every free square inch of wall was filled with floor to ceiling shelves, each one jampacked so tightly it appeared as if it might burst at any moment.  Only the chest height rows that divided the room vertically seemed to have open spaces, little-handwritten signs taped to the wood to categorize their genres.

The clock on the wall showed the time as eight forty-five.  Perhaps he’d gotten the address wrong, or else the other had left early due to a slow night.  The thought that he’d intentionally been given the wrong address flitted through his mind, but he pushed it down.  It’s not like he’d even intended on showing up until half an hour ago, anyhow, when curiosity finally got the better of him.  And what point was there in lying?

“Alright, Allura, I’ve organized the back room for… Lance,” the familiar voice dropped in pitch to something smooth and warm, like honey whiskey, causing him to glance over his shoulder at the partially hidden door to the left of the counter where the dark boy was hanging halfway out from.  “Well, you’re punctual, if nothing else.”

“Friend of yours, Keith,” the woman he assumed had to be Allura asked with a bright, hopeful gleam in her stunningly blue eyes.

“Not really, no,” Keith replied vaguely, pulling off his hunter green apron and hanging it up behind the counter.  “I’m gonna skip off early if that’s fine with you.”

Allura waved a flippant hand his way.  “Go on, then.  But don’t stay out too late, you’re scheduled to open at ten o clock sharp.”

“Yes, mom,” Keith drawled, rolling violet eyes good-naturedly.  The hints of a fond smile pulled the corners of his lips as he came to stand before Lance.  “Well, since you’re here, wanna get some takeaway?”

“Sure,” Lance said with a shrug, following after him as they stepped out of the shop.  Cold air brushed against the skin on his face, making him shiver as he shrugged further into his jacket.  “So, that woman back there…”

“My boss and brother’s girlfriend of many years.”

“Explains the overly familiar vibe,” he murmured, breathing out a puff of steam that swirled through the inky blackness as the two made their way down the block. 

Headlights bobbed in his vision as a car drove past, the screech of the radio blaring so loudly it cut through the quiet like a horrible cry.  When it was gone, the only sound was the scuff of shoes on pavement and the soft hum of traffic somewhere in the distance.

“I didn’t expect you to work in a used bookstore,” Lance said, finally breaking the silence after they’d made it a little further down the road.

Keith hummed in amusement.  “I wouldn’t if not for Allura.  She needed help and my brother is too busy to pull shifts, so I volunteered.”

“What’s he do?”

“Vet.  Which is hilarious if you’ve ever seen the guy.  He’s all this bulk and muscle but then he turns around and saves injured kittens or whatever.”  Another fond smile pulled softly at his mouth.  “That’s how he met Allura, only he was just a tech while he finished up his degree.  Helped her cat when a dog got ahold of it.  It was love at first sight.”

“You sound like you really admire him,” Lance noted.

Keith chuckled.  “I do.  He’s all I’ve got for family.”  After a beat of loaded silence, the other boy chuckled again.  “It’s alright.  Our parents died a few years ago, but we’ve made do.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he said as he shook his head.  “Can’t change the past.”

“So, where are we going,” Lance wondered aloud, deciding to change the subject instead.

Keith eyed him amusedly as he pointed to a small hole in the wall with tables set up beneath a large awning, two brightly lit glass windows flanking both ends of the little food-truck-like establishment.  “There.  Best burgers in town.”

Lance shivered hard just looking at the cold, black metal seats.  “You really enjoy being outdoors despite the excruciatingly frigid temperatures, don’t you?”

The sound of sweet laughter carried itself out into the chilly night sky, millions of stars twinkling down on them as the two boys steadily made their way across the street.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus ends this time in their lives.  
> Nothing more will be divulged, aside from in the same manner as this chapter allowed a brief glimpse into the past.  
> It's kind of different, but I hope the story is interesting and fun, regardless.
> 
> Comments make my day. :)
> 
> Hit me up on Tumblr - Cherrypie62666


	3. A twist of fate

Three years later

“Here you are, sir, have a wonderful day and best of luck to you.”

“Thanks,” Lance said with a soft smile, taking the small red plastic bag harboring the velvety black box inside of it and stuffing it into his inner coat pocket to keep it safe.  The door jingled above his head as he stepped out onto the bustling street, warm sunlight bearing down on him, causing a light sheen of sweat to prickle up on his neck and back. 

A gentle breeze kicked up, bringing with it the delicious scent of hyacinth and magnolia that usually heralded the start of spring.  Even the trees were beginning to sprout new buds, white and pink speckled here and there with leaves of eye-popping emerald, branches swaying delicately as a swirl of petals rained down on him from high above.

It was a good day.  Perhaps the best day to finish his plan.  With a skip in his step, he made his way through the crowd of pedestrians, hailing a taxi on the corner of Third Avenue and Springfield.

“Where to,” the plump dark-skinned man asked, looking at him through the rearview mirror with warm brown eyes.  The hints of laugh lines could be seen in the corners, even from Lance’s distance in the backseat.

“1520 Wellington Court.”

With a slight nod, he shifted into drive and pulled away from the curb.

The drive was short enough, scenery passing by in a blur Lance hardly had the attention span to register it with, too busy turning the box over again in his hands as a little smile pulled his lips.  At times he’d open the box experimentally, holding it out as he rehearsed the lines he’d agonized over for weeks before finally making the decision and heading to the jeweler.

“Popping the question,” the cabby asked in a gentle voice, one that spoke of years of his own happy love life and fond memories.

Lance closed the lid with a loud click, grinning like a fool in response.  “Indeed I am.  Tonight.”

“Good luck, son.  And many happy years your way.”

He tipped the man heavily and waved goodbye, flouncing up the stairs and throwing open the door in a rush of pure excitement.  “Babe?  I’m home,” he called to the quiet household, shutting the door with his foot and removing his stifling jacket before setting it on the hook near the entrance.

A thump sounded in the room above, eyes flicking upward as he stuck a finger through the knot in his tie to loosen it.  “I know I said I wouldn’t be back until late, but I thought I’d surprise you.”

“Uh, hey Lance, be down in just a second,” the voice hollered all at once with a soft echo, breathy and a little nervous in its response.

“About those reservations,” he began, taking the stairs two at a time.  Standing before the door to their shared bedroom, hand on the knob, he smiled at the sound of faint scuffling floating through the thick wood.  “I was thinking that…”

His voice trailed off as he took in the sight of his girlfriend and some guy he’d never seen before stopped awkwardly in the midst of throwing on their clothes.  It was clearly half-rushed and panicked as both parties seemed to be attempting to wear the other’s articles, Nyma in a button up man’s shirt and the blond male halfway in her gym pants.  If he wasn’t trying as hard as he could not to begin throwing things, he might have chuckled at the strange sight.

“Honey,” Nyma said in a too high, sugary voice.  “This is Rolo.  He was just, uh.”

“Helping clean the pool we don’t own?  Or perhaps delivering a package when you invited him in for a cold drink?  Or was he fixing something broken, like maybe our relationship?”

Swallowing hard, her shoulders slumped in defeat.  “I was going to tell you, I really was.”

“That’s rich,” he laughed humorlessly, the sound sharp and cold and cruel.  “Would that be before or after I took you to a nice dinner to propose?”

Covering her mouth with both hands, tears sprang to her too blue eyes.  “You were,” she choked out thickly.

“Yes, past tense,  _was._   Collect your stuff and get the fuck out of my house.”  Flicking his eyes about the place, he grimaced.  “On second thought, I’ll go.  I don’t want to stay in this disgusting memory filled dump another second.”  Spinning on his heels, he thundered down the steps, grabbing his coat off the hook and slamming the door behind him.

The wall shook as the sound reverberated through the quiet street, doing little to ease the steadily growing ache in his chest.  Part of him wanted to run until his lungs burned from the effort, while another part wanted to slip into the cracks in the sidewalk and disappear outright.  He settled on punching the nearest thing to himself, consequently, a cement post, recoiling his hand as a string of expletives tumbled from his lips. 

The knuckles were split along the middle and pointer finger, a smear of red painting his dark skin.  Hot agony throbbed in time with his accelerated heart rate, little jolts shooting down his wrist as he glared at the swelling and bruised area like it had decided to act that way without cause.

For the first time in a year and a half, Lance wished he had a cigarette.

Curling his injured limb up toward his chest, he shuffled down the street on tired legs, headed for a place to take away his sudden misery.  Preferably one where he could bum a smoke and drink his feelings away.

* * *

The bar was awash in a glow of orange light as he sat on the little stool, lopsided though it might have been, nursing his double shot of whiskey with a blank expression on his face.  The throbbing in his fingers had already long since subsided, numbed by the gentle warmth of alcohol coursing swiftly through his veins.

Even his emotions seemed to have fizzled out into something a little less crushing, the weight in his chest nothing more than a timid and lackluster press against his hollowed ribcage.  Not that he really paid much attention to it, too far lost in a sea of empty grey to notice anything at all, save for the occasional want to lift the glass to his lips and take a slow, bitter sip. 

Violet flashed through his mind and he heaved a sigh.

“Mind if I sit here,” a voice asked from somewhere to his left, causing his gaze to flick over for the first time in thirty minutes.

“Took you long enough,” he mumbled with a heavy tongue, knocking back the remainder of his drink and wincing slightly at the terrible burn.

Hunk placed a hand on his shoulder.  “I’m sorry, buddy.  Do you want to talk about it?”

“I’d rather get drunk,” he admitted with a wry smile, waving over the blond bartender and ordering another round of their strongest whiskey.

Plopping down onto the stool beside him, his friend turned to him with a guarded look.  “I know it hurts right now, Lance, but you can’t let yourself sink into despair.  Getting hammered will only prolong your suffering, and give you a nasty hangover to boot.”

Glancing sidelong, Lance furrowed his brow.  “What are you, my mother?”

“No, I’m your friend and I care about you.”

“Same thing,” he muttered, watching the amber liquid as it was poured into the old-fashioned glass.  The bartender slid it toward him with a kind smile.  “Thanks, put it on my tab.”

“And cash it out,” Hunk informed the man a little too firmly, slipping his card across the table.

Lance scoffed and then took another gulp.  “What if I’m not done yet?”

“You’re done, Lance.  What you need now are a nice hot shower and a good, long sleep.”

Pursing his lips, he shook his head.  “No, what I need is a cigarette.  Like, right now.”

“But you qui-“

Hopping off the stool he wandered toward the little vending machine in the corner, glancing at the selection with a fuzzy gaze.  Locking eyes on the pack in question, a smile curled his lips and he punched in the correct code.  The machine whirred as it dispensed his obnoxiously pricy cigarettes, pulling them out of the little flap and ripping open the cellophane obstruction.

The scent of raisin and tar mixed together as he breathed in deeply, closing his eyes and remembering the last time he’d ever smoked.  It was two years prior, just after he’d met Nyma and found himself entranced by her sultry laugh and sparkling smile.  The first thing she’d said to him was that she didn’t like the fact that he smoked, so the very next day, he threw the remainder he had into the garbage and never looked back.

“What a joke,” he spat, placing the butt between his lips.  “Now all I need is a-“

The sound of a lighter flicking drew his attention over into shimmering eyes, the orange glow reflecting off of them making them shine like little flames.  A small smile curled his mouth, eyebrow quirked in amusement as he stared back with a soft expression.  “Hey, Lance.  Long time no see.”

The cigarette almost fell from his mouth as he gaped at the man before him like a cruel daydream.  When he made no move to accept the light, Keith plucked the thing from his lips and lit it with a soft exhale of swirling grey.

“I’ll take that shocked look as a ‘it’s nice to see you.’”

“Keith,” Lance finally mumbled, blinking rapidly as if to chase the image from his mind.  It stayed, which was either a blessing or a curse, he couldn’t quite decide.  “Wh… what are you doing here?”

“I work here,” Keith said in such a way that it might have been a question.  Handing over the cigarette with a smile, he inclined his head toward the bar.  “Actually, I’m going to be late clocking in so… talk to you in a few?”  With a gentle wave, he sashayed away.

If Lance wasn’t sober beforehand, he certainly was now, the shock and surprise bubbling up inside of him like a volcano ready to burst.  He hadn’t seen the boy in just over two and a half years, their short-lived friendship ending not long after it had started when Keith decided to up and move across the country to chase some vague dream. 

The two had lost touch sometime after he’d started seeing Nyma, and as much as it hurt at the time, he figured it must have been for the best.  Having residual unsolved feelings for someone else when you’re dating another probably wasn’t the best way to begin a relationship.  In hindsight, he wished he’d been selfish enough not to let Keith slip away from him so easily.

Trudging back to the bar, he sat upon the stool once more and pulled up an ashtray, eyes searching the room for the familiar mop of shaggy dark hair.  Smoke curled from his lips as he exhaled softly, Hunk watching him solemnly with a curious brown gaze, mouth formed into a thin little line.

“Are you ready to go now,” he asked after a moment of heavy silence.

A door in the back area opened slowly, revealing the person he wanted most.  The years hadn’t changed much, not the gentle curve of his full lips nor the intensity of his violet gaze.  It still shot through his heart with a horrible clench, both from the weight of years apart and the bitter longing he thought he’d finally escaped.

“No, actually.  I think I’m going to stay.”

Hunk followed his line of sight, eyebrows raising high in surprise.  “Keith,” he said, casting a worried glance at his friend before smiling awkwardly.  “It’s been a while.  I didn’t know you were back.”

Sauntering up with a cool smirk, he lifted his arm in a shrug.  “Yeah, have been for some time now.  How have you been, Hunk?  Still seeing Shay?”

Lance felt the tendrils of some strange emotion worming their way through his chest, brow creasing in disapproval as he watched the two of them talking together like nothing had changed.  It hadn’t, not really, unless you counted the years of stereo silence that stretched behind them like a black mark on the past.

Hunk grinned happily.  “I am.  Got married last October.  If I had known you were in town, I would have invited you.”

“That’s alright,” he replied, flicking his gaze toward Lance for a moment before smiling softly.  “I wasn’t exactly vocal about my whereabouts with many.  Mostly just my brother and his wife.”

“How long have you worked here,” Hunk asked, settling back like he was content to stay a while.

Keith narrowed his eyes in thought.  “I guess about a year and a half now, give or take a bit.”

Lance choked on the smoke in his lungs, spluttering in puffs of wispy grey.  Stubbing the half-finished butt into the black glass, his jaw clenched as his frown deepened.  “That’s quite a long time to not tell anyone,” he seethed, feeling hurt and anger wash over him in equal parts.

“I didn’t think it was paramount,” Keith shrugged, grabbing a few empty glasses from the bar and setting them into a white plastic tub.  “Can I get you anything else?”

“I was actually just leaving,” Hunk said with an apologetic smile, turning to the other with a questioning gaze.  The message was clear on his face; stay if you want to, but I don’t think it’s a good idea.  Lance had already decided the moment he saw Keith’s face.  “Well, I’ll catch you later, then.  Call me if you need anything,” he murmured before slipping away as quietly as he’d come.

Keith watched him with a quirked brow.  “Another whiskey?  The tab was closed but I can start another if you’d like.”

Flicking his eyes to the bottles of liquor lined up along the small shelf, he shook his head.  “I’ll take a beer, instead.  Something dark, preferably,” he mumbled, pulling another cigarette from the red pack and placing it between his lips.  Fumbling with his pockets, he remembered his lack of means to light up and frowned.

Keith slid a book of matches over with a chuckle, filling the tall glass to the brim with black liquid that foamed a delicate cream color along the rim.  Placing it down with a smile, he wiped his hands on a rag.  “Enjoy your beer, Lance,” he breathed, then walked away.

Striking the white tip on the brown ignition paper, he inhaled the taste of bitter resentment.

* * *

“We’re about to close up, need me to call you a ride?”

Lance glanced over into warm blue eyes, shaking his head as he exhaled a long breath of smoke.  “No thanks, don’t know where I’m going anyhow.”

The bartender gave him a sympathetic look.  “Kicked out?”

“More like walked away willingly, but sure, it’s all the same in the end.”

Rubbing a hand along the back of his neck, he glanced over at the only other person still in the room.  “I can ask Keith if he knows of-“

“That won’t be necessary,” Lance cut the guy off, stubbing out his cigarette in the mostly full tray.  “I’m sober enough to figure things out for myself.”  Slipping from the stool, he placed a large bill down on the shiny wood with a smile and walked out into the crisp night. 

The road was quiet and dark, yellow streetlights illuminating the block on both ends as far as the eye could see.  Even for March, it was surprisingly warmer than he’d expected it to be, and he contemplated the pros and cons of finding a bench somewhere to sit down on for the remainder of the evening.  There was always the option of contacting Hunk, but two AM wasn’t the nicest hour to drag someone from bed.  Taking a left, he began down a random direction, much the way he had earlier that afternoon.

A door opened behind him suddenly, voice calling out into the still night.  “Hey, Lance.  Wait up.”  Pausing mid-step, he glanced over his shoulder in time to catch Keith pulling his arm through the sleeve of his well-worn leather jacket.  Lips quirked up at the ends, he closed the distance and inclined his head the other direction.  “Walk with me?”

“Sure,” Lance mumbled quietly, falling into step as the two made their way down the darkened street. 

Déjà vu danced on the edges of his mind, the familiar scene playing out much the way it always had in the past.  Keith wasn’t much of a talker, but the silence was never anything but companionable as they walked along the chipped sidewalk toward a destination he wasn’t curious enough to inquire about.

Humming softly, Keith glanced at him from the corner of his eye.  “So, Will tells me you’re out a place to stay tonight.”

“Who?”

“The other bartender,” he replied with a soft chuckle.

Lance frowned.  “I really am quite alright.  I was just going to-“

“Walk around moping until the sun comes up,” Keith asked with a teasing smile.

Stopping dead in his tracks, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers.  “Seriously.  You don’t need to help me out.”

“There’s a cheap motel down the road here.  They’re rarely full, and you can pay by the week.  Come on, don’t be so stubborn.”  Turning, he continued down the path as if he knew the other would follow.

Lance gritted his teeth angrily before picking up the pace, remaining a good step or so behind as his mind whirled over the events of the day.  It was all too much, walking out on Nyma only to run right into the person he couldn’t seem to get out of his head after years of futile attempts.  If there was a god, he was sitting back and laughing at the way Lance dangled helplessly from his little hook.

The lobby was far too brightly lit for such a rundown place, the chubby bespectacled man behind the counter sliding a single bronze key with a green plastic tab across the chipped desk, smiling his yellow-toothed smile as Keith thanked him for his time.  Begrudgingly he followed across the empty parking lot, red neon flashing the vacancy sign high above him like a strobe light against the greying asphalt.

The scent of old cigarettes and shitty chemical cleaning supplies assaulted his airways as he flicked on the light, a grim look crossing his face as he took in the tiny room he’d regretfully be calling home that week. 

The bed was pushed almost flush to the green wall, a little tv chained to the dresser across from it as if someone in their right mind might actually want to make off with the old piece of junk.  A white minifridge sat standalone in one corner, a microwave flashing the incorrect time of 11:11 on a desk with a wooden chair pushed against it in the other.  Part of him was too afraid to check the bathroom and see what horrors lay beyond the thick white door.  Leave that for the morning when it was unavoidable.

“It isn’t much, but it beats sleeping on someone’s couch,” Keith offered, stepping into the room and minimizing the available space by half.

Lance raked a hand down his face, crossing over to the bed and testing out the creakiness of the mattress.  It groaned as he sat down, springs already digging themselves into his ass.  “Great.”

“There’s a convenience store across the street.  Want me to grab you anything to celebrate the occasion?”

“Something strong,” Lance muttered, placing the key on the provided night table and noting the way it dipped beneath his fingers.  “And something to prop under whichever leg is short on this thing.”

Keith laughed, the sound causing his heart to stutter in his chest.  “I’ll be right back then,” he promised and left without fully closing the front door.

Lance fell back with a loud protest from the bed, ignoring the pain that blossomed up his backside.  The popcorn ceiling was no doubt riddled with asbestos, but he traced the patterns as if they were fluffy white clouds.  Faces stared down at him, some laughing, some sympathetic to his plight.  A car drove by somewhere in the distance, the backfire from its carburetor sounding convincingly like a gunshot.

“I think that’s a flower,” he mumbled quietly under his breath.  “Could be an X.”

“Well, I guess I don’t have to ask how your sanity is holding up,” Keith murmured as he slipped into the room once more, a brown paper bag clutched against his chest.  “You’ve clearly already jumped off the deep end.”

Sitting upright, he ran a hand through his messy locks.  “Not quite there yet, but I’ll send a postcard once I arrive.”

Pulling a fifth of tequila from the sack, Keith shook it with a smile, closing the door up with his foot.  “Hope cheap is okay, that’s all they had.”

“Does it get you drunk?”

“Undoubtedly.”

A smile curled his lips as he rose to his feet.  “Well, that’s all I care about.”

* * *

It burned going down, but after the third or fourth, his throat was numb to the sting.  They sat cross-legged on the floor facing one another, a pile of discarded lime rinds to his left, knees brushing occasionally due to the lack of space.  There was no salt, not unless they wanted the fast-food packet kind, so they made due without.  Lance couldn’t find it in himself to care.

“So,” Keith said, pulling a face as the ebb of alcoholic burn left their tongues.  “I take it you had a nasty breakup of some kind?”

“What gave it away,” Lance snorted derisively, tossing another rind into the pile.  “Was it the shitty motel or the need to consume copious amounts of liquor throughout the night?”

Keith poured another two shots and smiled softly.  “Little of both, though I gathered as much by your expressions.  Don’t work in a bar that long without picking up on the signs of a person in mourning.”

Lance knocked back his drink eagerly, long since unaffected by the terrible taste.  Slamming the little cup down on the ground, he waved a flippant hand.  “S’not really so much that I’m mourning.  More like enraged and contemplating homicide.  Alcohol is the better option.”

Giving a low whistle, Keith shifted in his seat, brushing their knees together once more softly.  “Cheater,” he guessed correctly, and Lance laughed.

“You are good at this.”

“Lots of practice,” he replied with a wry smile before knocking his own drink back with a slight shudder.

Alcohol clouded his better judgment, tongue already forming the words before his brain could stop him.  “Why did you kiss me all those years ago,” he asked softly, watching the violet gaze across from his flicker with surprise.

Brow creasing slightly, Keith was quiet for a moment, until another small smile found its way to his face.  “A passing whim,” he supplied, much like he had that very first day.  “You were cute, and I wanted to.  I didn’t need much more of a reason back then.”

Lance nodded like he understood, even as he knew the answer didn’t satisfy his growing curiosity.  “And why haven’t you since?”

The smile only grew as the seconds ticked by, brightening up the room as he shifted forward in his seat.  “Because I need more of a reason now, you still being cute isn’t enough anymore,” Keith murmured, gaze going soft.  “I prefer to only kiss people who want to be kissed.”

“You’re really bad at reading the mood, then,” Lance said with a somber expression, rolling onto his knees and awkwardly straddling the other’s lap.  Threading hands through thick black hair, he relished the sensation as it slipped through his fingers, pleased that it was just as soft as it looked.  “If that’s the case, you should have done it already.”

Warmth flooded his chest as Keith’s mouth pressed firmly against his own, eliciting a moan from his throat as teeth grazed his bottom lip.  He responded instantly, the deepened kiss tasting oddly sweet despite the tang of lime and the sharp scent of alcohol tickling his nose.  Hands ran up his sides, ghosting over his ribs and leaving gooseflesh in their wake.  A jolt of electricity shot down into his groin and he pulled back, panting hard with heavily lidded eyes.

“Wait, this is a stupid place to do this,” he mumbled, scrambling to his feet and helping the other up.

 Keith was on him again almost instantly, nipping playfully at his mouth as the two tumbled down onto the mattress with a loud groan.  Fingers swept across his chest, working at the buttons of his shirt as the other trailed open-mouthed kisses across his jaw, down his throat, then back up to press hard against his lips once more, claiming them hungrily as his own.

Heart thundering loudly in his ears, soft keening whines echoed around them as layers came off one by one, exposing new areas to explore with tongues and lips and hands and teeth.  Each new patch of skin was like a clean white sheet of paper, ready and waiting to be painted into a work of art by the other’s whims.

As Keith finally slipped down the sheets to rest between his thighs, he had but a moment to understand what was happening before eyes crossed and he threaded his fingers back into messy hair, a groan of satisfaction spilling from his lips.  Pleasure rippled down his spine in tantalizing tremors as wave after wave of passion pulled him down to the point of drowning.

If he never came up again, it would be too soon.

* * *

Morning sunlight streamed in through the curtains, splaying long fingers across his face.  Blue eyes opened slowly, head pounding terribly as he reached across the mattress for something that wasn’t there.  Sitting upright, he ignored the sudden case of vertigo that had him wincing in displeasure, blinking sleepy eyes around the room in a vain attempt to locate the other.

Keith’s shoes were gone from their place by the door, the garbage they’d accumulated already removed and left in the little bin.  A flash of white caught his attention and he climbed from the tangle of sweaty sheets, trekking over to the small desk in the corner and picking up the paper he didn’t recognize from the night before.

_Lance,_

_Sorry for leaving without saying goodbye.  I thought it might be for the best.  Your ring fell out of your pocket, but I put it back.  You should work things out with her.  A ring that nice deserves a happy ending._

_Keith_

Sitting down in the little wooden chair, he rested his forehead on the cool surface of the table and shut his eyes tightly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I'm pretty terrible.  
> Thus conclude this chapter and this time hop.  
> Next one is the final, and it'll be 2 years later.  
> If you haven't noticed, I'm following a seasonal theme. I didn't start off that way, it just happened and then I went with it.  
> Horray for Summer and good endings. I swear. ;)
> 
> Hit me up on Tumblr - Cherrypie62666


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